The ancient and worn Stan City shrouded by rosy light emanates an air of age and hardship.

Four days after Saudi forces took control of Stan City, it was rare to see the innocent smiles of children on Mars Avenue. The usually bustling streets were quiet, most likely due to the majority of civilians huddling in their homes or seeking refuge in bomb shelters.

Mars Avenue, located on the outskirts of the city center, was one of the few areas that the Saudi forces had not completely dominated. However, within three days at most, this place will also fall under their control.

Despite this, gangs of Saudi soldiers who acted more like bandits could still be seen loitering on this ancient street. They would casually stroll along, lending and buying goods at a low price, and always leaving without paying their food and beverage bills.

Feng Yi had spent the last two days here, exchanging all his remaining funds for ammunition and living supplies. He suspected the nearby supermarkets and other stores would soon be pillaged, leaving him no choice but to prepare in advance.

He had no idea when the support troops from the Federation would arrive, if at all. Perhaps the Federation had already abandoned this distant border planet. But in any case, it was always wise to be prepared.

On the street, a medium-sized Iveco vehicle attracted the attention of passersby...

The energy vehicle had a deep yellow exterior, its fresh color indicating signs of wear and tear.

Undoubtedly, this was not a local vehicle. In a city closely falling into decay, energy cars were rarely seen. If one had the money to purchase such an upscale, energy-efficient product, they could have used it to buy countless diesel vehicles instead.

A young girl hurriedly descended from the vehicle as it came to a stop. She was nicely named Jasmine, her clothes seemed somewhat dirty and her fashion style was not in keeping with local customs.

Upon leaving the vehicle, Jasmine cast cautious glances behind her, not stopping until the three people inside responded with nods. She then steeled herself and cautiously left for a nearby small supermarket.

The supermarket is situated on Mars Pedestrian Street, about 200 meters from where the Iveco vehicle is parked. When Jasmine approached the supermarket, she could see two armed guards at the entrance.

Jasmine felt intimidated but ventured into the supermarket, filling her bags with various items. When she came out, her hands were filled with bags of assorted sizes, and the strain was visible on her face. Thankfully, a local helped her out, "Hey, miss, need a hand?" The man who spoke was quite jovial.

"Ah...um...thank you," Jasmine replied, somewhat embarrassed.

The man maintained his easy-going demeanor, "You don't look like you're from around here. It's chaos all around, why does a young girl like you dare to come to such a dangerous place?"

Jasmine wanted to say that she was a war correspondent, but thought better of it and gave a vague response about there still being kind people in the world.

The man didn't pay much heed to her evasion. However, as they walked, Jasmine noticed that the man was leading her in a different direction. She quickly corrected him, "Sir, I need to go the other way."

"Well, this way is a shortcut."

"No, please..."

Before she finished speaking, the man covered her mouth and gave a whistle. Out of nowhere, a group of people rushed out from the shadows and carried Jasmine away. The armed guards at the supermarket entrance didn't even blink an eye, as if this was an everyday occurrence.

The occupants inside the Iveco, faces suddenly changing, leapt into action. The journalist armed with a gun, seeing that the situation had gone south, gave chase without a moment's hesitation. He knew that as Stan City increasingly fell under control, the law and order situation would deteriorate, but he never imagined daylight robbery and kidnapping.

Two minutes later, the young journalist finally caught up with the group. It was a well-known fact that everyone in Stan City was armed. Considering he was vastly outnumbered, he didn't dare confront them head-on but followed discreetly. Eventually, he pinpointed the location where the group of men in black had taken Jasmine - the back door of a large bar.

The young man stealthily retreated and quickly reported everything to the two people in the vehicle.

Neither of them blamed him for not acting there and then. As war correspondents who journeyed from battlefield to battlefield, they mostly covered the action from the second line of conflict and rarely ventured to the front line. Since they lost contact with their main forces, this small team had always been cautious and methodical. Their driver was always ready to step on the throttle; one of them would continuously record the state of combat zones, while another would carry a gun, ready to cover Jasmine if need be. However, they didn't expect to encounter such a large group of assailants.

Furthermore, even in the absence of this situation, one couldn't simply fire their weapon. Though they had accepted the new reality, they were not prepared to kill. Legally speaking, it would be a crime, but in the midst of a war-ravaged territory, the law appeared to be irrelevant. Making matters worse, there was no guarantee that they could even hit their targets with their current marksmanship.

The problem that now faced them was what to do next. The three, constantly debating in the vehicle, had thought of various strategies but none seemed feasible. The local power structures were difficult to overcome, especially considering they were not particularly strong or influential. Unlike the average person, they were war correspondents who happened to be slightly braver and ventured to the frontlines. Even their 43-year-old driver, usually calm and collected, seemed flustered and distressed.

Eventually, the only solution they could think of was to seek help from local freelance mercenaries. However, they knew the chances were slim. Since the Saudi forces had conquered Stan City, not many people seemed to care about such occurrences. The battle-hardened mercenaries would only show up when needed. The intervention of the Saudi military essentially blocked the living conditions of these freelance mercenaries.

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